Dancer
by Siskin
Summary: AU, a dream, a fantasy? Honestly, I have no idea. The image of Tasuki watching Miaka dance took my head hostage and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. Interpret as you will.


Fushigi Yuugi is not copyrighted to me.

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Dancer

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I've been waiting for this all night.

As the cheers and applause and shouts of approval for the previous performance die away, she makes her appearance with a soft, measured chiming of bells. She's always the last performer of the night; no one would try to surpass her. The silence is immediate and profound. Every eye is on her; they all melt away from her, leaving a broad path and widening the circle in their midst. No one touches her. None of them would dare.

She paces into the circle, chin held high, her expression serene. She is barefoot, her footfalls marked by the gentle jingling of the anklets of brass bells. She stops in the exact center, letting them all feast their eyes for a few moments. As they all stand transfixed by her beauty, she lets her gaze wander over the crowd…and for just a moment, those luminous eyes capture and hold mine, and I see her loneliness. It draws all the air out of me, and I can't move.

She closes her eyes, releasing me. She slowly tips her head back; the scarf in her hair is fringed with crystal drops, and they click together quietly. She lifts her henna-decorated hands high over her head, turning them up as though in supplication. She shifts her bare left foot behind the right. She waits, poised.

The drums start first, thrumming into the silence like a heartbeat. She begins to sway, letting the drums move her. Then the pipes introduce the melody, and she flies into the dance like an arrow released from the bow.

Her full skirt flares as she spins. The torchlight sparkles on the brass bells at her ankles; their soft chirring is like rain against the thunder of the drums.

The drums shift pattern, increasing their intensity, and the speed of her dance rises with it. A sigh of response goes through the onlookers like wind through the trees. She's blind and deaf to them, arms stretching out in fervent longing as she whirls, craving the sky. She seems weightless, her feet barely touching the ground, as if the music is the only power binding her to earth.

I don't envy the musicians who accompany her. While they play, they have to close their eyes or avert them, or be caught up in her spell with the rest of us. The crowd is in a trance, their souls unanchored and dancing along with her. I'm no different; the drumbeats throb inside me like my own pulse, and as she bends and spins I'm not sure what's holding me to the ground.

The drums take on an even more frenetic rhythm, the pipes wailing like human voices. She never misses a step, although the pace is grueling. Her skirt swings and swirls; her hair ripples around her like a silken cape.

The melody spirals up to a crescendo, spinning me away with it. Then the pipes are stilled, leaving only the drums to carry me. One final spin, the full skirt flaring wide, and then she raises her arms again and stops in the position where she began—arms raised to the stars, face lifted to let the moonlight shine on the tears on her face, her gasping breaths rocking her on her feet—as the drums finish with a final tremendous pounding and fall silent.

Everyone seems to begin breathing again at once. They stare at her, still half in her spell. She sways dangerously, and a few onlookers gasp in alarm, but no one approaches her. Even after what she's given them--what she gives them every time she dances--they'll let her fall rather than take the risk. They're afraid. Once, I would have been.

But I know what I saw in her eyes. I'm not afraid now.

I force my feet to move, and walk toward her, breaching the edge of the empty circle. Suddenly it's me they're all staring at. I ignore their shocked, outraged expressions. I cross the empty space. I'm the first to see her eyes open, glittering with tears in the torchlight. Her hands drift down toward her sides, and her eyes meet mine again as I stand before her. She smiles and closes her eyes again, and as she wilts forward in exhaustion, she falls into my arms.

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**The End**

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A/N: Written with the Tasuki/Miaka alt pairing in mind.


End file.
